Winter post #2: Big splash in the bucket

This weekend we, 3 friends of mine and myself, treated ourselves to a weekend at the sea. Though I´m not a big fan of the Belgian coast with its fully built shoreline but rather prefer the Dutch coastline and its many dunes, we couldn’t and wouldn’t turn down a chance to overnight at an ocean front apartment.

Oostende was recuperating from a northwestern storm called Dieter that made some big waves and caused the gusts of wind to be mighty powerful. These gusts also brought ashore a bunch of seabirds that would normally not make their way to the coast. One type of seabird, on the other hand, made its business to get to know us much more intimately.

We were walking down the shoreline, slowly making our way to the city for some fresh fish, when we suddenly crossed paths with a bird. This bird immediately headed towards us, directly to the feet of my friend, making a noise and not looking very happy at all. We had the impression it had hurt itself – why else would it so fearlessly approach humans. And fearless it was, and very determined to be making contact with one of my friends. I thought of the shelter for injured birds close to where I live and how there would have to be something similar in a city as big as Oostende. I quickly found the number and called them and as luck would have it, they answered and sent someone to pick up the bird immediately!

As I grabbed my phone, my friend grabbed the bird who almost immediately stopped the weak attempts to peck at my friend´s glove covered hands and settled down in the warm woolen mittens. We could´t figure out the type of bird that this was, though we agreed it looked a bit like a penguin. Suddenly one of my friends remembered the name of the bird her 6-year-old son, who happens to be into birds, had taught her. This bird could be a razorbill (ruokki in Finnish, alk in Dutch).

After the bird was rescued by one of the volunteers from the Middelkerke Vogelaziel, we continued our weekend of good food and wine, long conversations, belly laughter, no tears (this time, how odd) and lots of walks in the sea breeze.

The next day we were back in action. As we walked along the shore, we started noticing more and more crap that had washed ashore. It was incredible: everything from pieces of fish nets, ropes (heavy-duty and just normal-duty), lots and lots of plastic bottle caps and plastic bottles, and pieces of torn balloons.. Everywhere we looked, there was crap to be picked up. We finally picked up the old plastic baskets that once probably belonged to some fishermen who had lost their fishing baskets as they were blown off from the deck to the sea and landed back on the shore. They worked out well as our trash carriers. We must have emptied those things to the trash cans on the boardwalk 4-5 times on our trip, which took about an hour.

Cleaning up the shore or the forest is something I am in the habit of doing. I don´t go to the forest or the seaside with the intention of cleaning up, but I cannot help but pick up the crap that I come across.

Though not all of my friends were into this immediately because following the we-are-only-drop-in-the-ocean-philosophy, they didn’t see the point of starting on this never ending task. In the end, however we were all squatting on the beach picking up the trash.

This kind of catch could make one depressed, but to me it works just the opposite. It gives me a rush of hope, of competence and a feeling that I can do something. I can help out, by making sure my crap doesn’t end up in the ocean, educating my children to protect the ocean and keep on picking up the crap that I come across and to lead by example.

Similarly, us attempting to save that birdie, was a reminder that indeed, small drops can together make a big splash in the bucket. This birdie was not supposed to be where it was, but nevertheless ended up on the Belgian coast being cuddled by a Finnish woman, with three other Finnish women fussing over it. She (or he) certainly made an impression on us – it was a lovely contact we had with nature, and though we worried about how the poor thing would turn out, we were happy because we knew it ended up in a warm and safe place where it had the best chances of making it out and back to where it should be – alive.